


Laundromat

by thisroadsofar



Series: 12 Days of Wincestmas 2019 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12 Days of Wincestmas, Don’t copy to another site, First Time, M/M, Panties, Panties Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 17:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17370392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisroadsofar/pseuds/thisroadsofar
Summary: Semi-inspired by Jensen and Jared talking about wanting to have an episode with the boys at a laundromat.





	Laundromat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lady_simoriah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_simoriah/gifts).



> Visual aid for Dean's panties [here](https://www.amazon.com/YiZYiF-Jacquard-See-Through-Sissy-Underwear/dp/B014SUJADA/ref=pd_sbs_193_2/146-2819102-8688729?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=B014SUIQ8A&pd_rd_r=979cd7ae-0b48-11e9-bba3-df00a3acce5e&pd_rd_w=hOlYJ&pd_rd_wg=aJIbV&pf_rd_p=7d5d9c3c-5e01-44ac-97fd-261afd40b865&pf_rd_r=NVJGANK3S4NT62H0BN8N&refRID=NVJGANK3S4NT62H0BN8N&th=1). ;)

“Your turn for laundry, I’m going out, bye,” Dean said in a rush, throwing his duffel bag full of dirty clothes at Sam. The door slams behind him before Sam can get a word in edgewise. Which, fair, it was his turn, but things had been uneasy between the two of them since… yeah, Sam didn’t even want to think about that. But doing laundry had previously been “their thing,” where they wait in their boxers playing cards. Sam sighs, grabbing his own bag and heading out towards the laundromat he saw down the street.

He doesn’t bother doing two separate loads for “his and his” ‘cause inevitably Sam’s softest sweatshirt will end up in with Dean’s things and that one flannel of Dean’s Sam loves so much will be stolen in a few days, but he does sort out the colors from the whites and the more blood-stained ones (which earned him a side-eye from the little old lady waiting for her load to dry) from the rest. It’s as he patting down the pockets of Dean’s favorite — heavily torn up — jeans (which they learned the hard way to check for bullets before throwing them in the wash) that Sam feels something soft in the deep front pocket, shoved all the way down. He pulls out a bundled-up, lacy, very, uh, pink bit of fabric and his eyebrows knit together as he un-scrunches it, his head tilted to the side. “Yours?” asks the old lady as Sam holds up the pink thong in front of him.

Sam snorts. “No,” he starts to say, amused that Dean has some girl’s panties hidden in his jeans. But then the color of his cheeks match the panties as he realizes something. Yeah. These aren’t girl’s panties. That’s a pouch in the front. It’s not even just a thong either, it’s a straight-up G-string. He clears his throat and throws the thong quickly into the drier. “Uh. No. They’re…”

“You really should air-dry those, you know,” she says wisely.

Sam shrinks into himself, cursing the day his kinky brother was born. He awkwardly places it on top of his duffel bag, unsure how this whole “air-drying” thing works. The old lady chuckles to herself as she gathers her load of laundry of the drying into her hamper and heads out. “You two have fun!” she says, and Sam’s pretty sure his cheeks are on fire. All these years of Dean calling Sam a girl for not liking super masculine things and this fucker owns a pink lace g-string.

“I’ll show him,” Sam mutters to himself as he steps out of the shower later that night. Dean had finally come back but was dead set on still ignoring him, intently watching TV. Sam slips the thong up his long legs and, okay, they actually feel pretty nice. He turns to wipe the foggy mirror so he can get a look at himself. Despite the string being so far up his crack there’s no way he’ll be able to wear this for long and the pouch in front is far too small to contain a very hung Sam (which makes Sam smirk smugly), Sam has to admit he looks good. If this doesn’t make Dean get over whatever he’s pissed about then Sam’s admitting him to the hospital for a check-up on his dick, pronto. He wraps the towel around his waist like he usually does and steps into the hotel room.

Dean’s still hyper-focused on whatever stupid soap opera he’s into now, so Sam plops his duffel onto the side of his bed closest to Dean, takes out his sleep-wear, and just drops his towel all casual-like, as if he’s just in his boxers as usual like his asscrack isn’t on display. His back is to Dean, but he swears to God he hears Dean do a double take, and next thing he knows his face is in the bed and Dean’s hands are on his ass.

“Fucking asshole,” Dean swears before plucking the g-string and letting it slap against Sam’s hole. Sam grunts into the covers and pushes up on his tiptoes, lifting his ass in the air.

The thong is absolutely ruined by the end of the night, but Sam’s well-fucked and back in Dean’s arms. But Dean’s still doing laundry by himself next time.


End file.
